


Autumn Leaves

by catearphanatic



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel and Demon, Feelings, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), ineffable husbands, lots of watching and long lingering looks, lots. of. feelings, there's a definite amount of pining, we're on opposite sides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-13 17:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catearphanatic/pseuds/catearphanatic
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale love each other.But it's hard to love each other when you're an angel and a demon, predestined to be hereditary enemies.And things are complicated when your enemy turns out to not really be an enemy at all.





	1. Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I love Good Omens (so much) and since I was a bit bored, a lot procrastinating and feeling the need to write more I created these short texts.
> 
> For each I listened to a song (the title of the chapter) and tried to convert the feeling of it into an out of context text passage with Aziraphale and Crowley as the focus!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Cherry Wine

Everything was quiet.  
Crowley had rarely experienced such stillness. It seemed as if everything in the world slept.   
Finally, at peace.  
  
For now.

Crowley did not dare move. Nothing that would disturb this moment of silence. Not after the storm had settled and a comforting calm had fallen over the apartment.  
He could feel Aziraphale breathe next to him, slightly snoring from time to time.  
A small smile snuck onto Crowley’s face.  
In that moment all he could feel was his love for the person lying next to him. Stirring and snoring, but most definitely alive.

There was nothing left to do but for Crowley to close his tired eyes. Finally, they could rest.

For now.


	2. Summer Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The titled for this is not ideal, but I wanted to keep consistent with the whole call the chapters the song I based the text on
> 
> (if I hadn't I would have called that one Autumn Leaves)

Summer Guest

Crowley watched Aziraphale who was walking a few paces in front of him. Crowley couldn’t contain a small smile, spreading now onto his lips, as he eyed the figure of his angel, bundled up in warm pullovers and lined winter coat.  
Orange-red and gold leaves framed the pavement, some of them being shuffled away as Aziraphale made his way through them.  
The brisk, cold air bit at Crowley’s cheeks.  
He pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his skinny jeans and huffed a white puff of breath into the air.

He was … happy.

That was a new sensation. Sure he had been content often enough before, but this?  
He was in love with Aziraphale.

Not that he would ever admit to it out loud, but he was, and it felt dumb and impossibly wrong and unacceptable. How could this angel, out of everything, conjure so much joy within Crowley? So much happiness and love, Crowley thought, a demon shouldn’t be able to feel.  
And yet, he did.

Just before Crowley could contemplate these emotions further, Aziraphale turned around and waved at him.

“Come on, dear, we don’t want to be late”, he called with a smile that could light up even that darkest pits of hell and Crowley’s heart fluttered.

Blood rushed into his cheeks and he buried his face deeper into the stupid tartan scarf Aziraphale had lent him.  
At least if the angel remarked on it, he would be able to blame it on the cold and the wind.  
No need for him to know. No need for him to know at all.

No, Crowley was happy.  
And that was enough.


	3. Mykonos

Mykonos

Crowley ran through the burning library.  
“Aziraphale”, he screamed through the flames and the smoke.  
Heat was biting at his face, but Crowley did not care.

“Aziraphale, where the bloody hell are you?! I can’t find you!”

Crowley’s heart was hammering inside his chest, ready to jump out and burn in the flames, together with Aziraphale’s body.  
For Crowley was sure he would find his friend lying between the rubble and the debris.  
If he would find anything at all.

“Aziraphale”, he cried out again and this time he couldn’t stop the tears.  
Tears he had tried to hold back ever since he had first seen the flames. Heard the screams. Noticed the absence of the angel in the crowd gathered outside the monument.  
Aziraphale had to be here somewhere. If he … if he could just find him.

“Aziraphale”, he called out again but this time it was nothing more than a choked back sob.

Crowley tried to press on but his legs gave out under him. With a loud crash he fell to the hard, cold floor, taking one of the burning bookcases with him on the way down.  
Cursing, he sat back up. The sleeve of his toga had caught on fire, but Crowley didn’t care. He sat on the ground and watched the flames take possession of his right hand. Licking at his fingers and engulfing his skin in a fiery red glow.  
His heart felt numb.

Aziraphale was gone and there was nothing left for Crowley. What sense did a world make without Aziraphale in it.

What did he care?  
Why would he?

He had just lost everything that had ever been important to him.  
Taken by the flames as the flames now took him.

What a joke God was.


	4. Easy Ride

Easy Ride

Aziraphale was watching Crowley.  
Aziraphale was watching Crowley as he had watched him whenever they spent time together.

Secretly from afar, a safe distance between them.

His friend was currently leafing through one of Aziraphale’s old books, unaware of the angel’s eyes.  
Aziraphale could feel the sense of love within him expand and grow.  
With every moment of every second he loved Crowley more. Sometimes so much he felt like he would burst.  
The love inside him hurt. Not the love, exactly. More … the knowledge that he would never be able to let it grow outside of him. Never be able to tell Crowley how much he was loved. How much he meant to Aziraphale.

And so Aziraphale kept watching.  
He watched Crowley as he had always watched him.

The first day they had met, when Crowley had asked about his flaming sword.  
On the day of the flood.  
When Crowley had saved Aziraphale’s books.  
That time they had had crêpes together.  
Whenever they visited the Ritz.

Aziraphale knew that Crowley was watching him in his turn.  
He had noticed Crowley’s tendency to circle and observe him.  
Sometimes, Aziraphale wished he could be as open, as inhibited about, well, about everything.  
But heaven had taught him to be cautious.  
He had seen and known the consequences of a tiny slip-up and so he had decided long ago that he would not give heaven the chance. No matter how Crowley stood on the subject.

Aziraphale would simply keep watching.  
Having his friend by his side. Spending time with him.  
That would have to be enough.

Just then Crowley looked up and an almost unconscious smile started to spread on his face as they locked eyes.  
Aziraphale kept the eye contact. Let the love linger in his eyes.

Unspoken.

Just for a second.  
But then he shifted his gaze back to the book that was lying on his lap.

Looking away, but a slight smile on his lips, nonetheless.


	5. Go Crazy

Go Crazy

The band was playing an up-beat song and the melody was echoing over the crowd.  
Some people were dancing, moving in the rhythm of the music, laughing and enjoying their evening out.  
Crowley and Aziraphale were sitting at one of the tables, next to the dance floor, opposing each other. Each of them had a glass filled with Champagne in front of them, already half finished.  
It wasn’t their first.

Crowley had let his hair grow the past few months and it was now combed to elegantly fall down his right shoulder.  
Aziraphale was slightly bobbing his head to the tune. The alcohol had already worked enough for him to let go a little and Crowley could hear even a slight hum escape the angel from time to time.

“Hm”, Crowley made and rested his head on his hand. “How about it, Angel?”  
He smirked.

Aziraphale looked at him, almost mockingly aghast.

“Crowley, you know I don’t dance”, he stated matter-of-factly. As if even the suggestion of it was preposterous.  
Crowley’s smirk only widened and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“That’s not what you said when I had to learn the gavotte for you”, he countered and Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

Of course, Crowley was not wrong. But the gavotte was something completely different. He wouldn’t even go as far as calling it dancing.  
No, the gavotte was simply … a good time.  
Aziraphale looked away, near abashedly.  
The angel would never openly admit to the fact that he was not as put out by the idea of dancing now as he had been a few centuries ago. His pride would not allow it.

Similarly, Crowley opposite to this, despite his smirk and calm demeanour, would never admit his desperate need for Aziraphale to say yes. Just like that the fact that he would have learned the gavotte to dance with Aziraphale, no matter if his friend asked for it or not, this would forever stay a secret buried deep within him.

“I don’t dance”, Aziraphale repeated.  
“Unless it’s the gavotte. And this certainly is not the right music for a gavotte.”

This was met with silence from Crowley, who simply watched Aziraphale through his dark sunglasses, his expression unreadable. Sometimes Aziraphale despised the damned spectacles of his. Sure, they looked good on him and they were an integral part to Crowley’s personality, which, if he was really, truly honest with himself, he would never dare to change, they often made moments like this excruciating.  
Had he made the demon angry? Sad? Did Crowley not care whether they would dance or not?

“It is a pity, though”, he added after Crowley hadn’t interjected again. “I do miss dancing, sometimes.”

“”You were opposed to the gavotte before you tired it”, Crowley said now, his expression never changing, but his voice filled with meaning.  
“Maybe you’ll like this too, if you try.”

“Oh, I couldn’t Crowley”, Aziraphale negated with an exasperated shake of his head.  
“And in any way you are a terrible dancer!”

Crowley sucked in an insulted breath, dramatically placing his hand over his chest.

“I’m going to act as if I haven’t just heard that”, he said and Aziraphale watched Crowley’s tongue lick the corner of his mouth, smudging some of the lipstick.  
“It’s 1931, angel, it would be a shame if this dress goes to waste because I’m stuck here behind a table.”

Aziraphale considered this for a second, before dismissing it again.  
“That is hardly my problem, is it.”

“Fine”, Crowley said and downed the last of his champaign. He lifted himself up, less gracefully than he would have liked or imagined, but the alcohol had already settled in his veins, making his head spin and leaving him feeling a little tipsy.

“I will find myself a more willing dance partner, then.”

Crowley turned to leave, and even though both the angel and the demon knew that it had been a thin veiled threat almost bordering on a lie, Aziraphale sighed and got up himself.

“Well, if you insist I must”, he declared with a certain level of played annoyance. “But if I don’t enjoy myself …”

“Alright, alright.”

With that Aziraphale held out his hand. “My dear lady …”  
Crowley snaked his arm through Aziraphale’s and arm in arm they headed towards the dance floor.

Most humans that saw the man in the beige suit and the woman in the elegant red dress dancing that night would not have called it particularly good dancing. If they would have described it as dancing at all. Had you tracked them down and asked after the peculiar pair the next day they probably would not have been able to describe what they had seen. But if you stayed long enough, you’d be able to see them recall that night, and you would see them smile and hear them say, Nothing like we’d ever seen, but they looked like they had fun doing it.


End file.
